


you don't have to have my back

by cloudsmove (ahealthyscalp)



Category: (여자)아이들 | (G)I-DLE
Genre: F/F, another 2 am galaxy brain work, mythology undertones, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahealthyscalp/pseuds/cloudsmove
Summary: A lot has changed in four centuries, but some things never do. Not in this lifetime.
Relationships: Cho Miyeon/Yeh Shuhua
Comments: 28
Kudos: 85





	1. years before we all freeze in the cold

**Author's Note:**

> This involves monsters and fake university students. Monster slayage and feelings ensue. (Or perhaps a lack thereof.)
> 
> Cross-posted on aff

“What are the elements of the book, _Coraline_ , which make it such an uneasy read? Hmm, any ideas?” 

Shuhua can’t care for her English professor. He drones on and on about the littlest details. He says he’s open to class discussions, invites students to participate, but he refuses to accept all answers. Well. All except for one student’s. 

Long, draping brown hair. Sitting straighter than a pole. The girl in front of Shuhua raises her hand and the teacher smiles, gesturing to her, prompting her to speak. 

“I believe the recurring loss of bodily integrity surrounding the monstrous transformations are a key factor,” says Miyeon. What does that even mean? Shuhua doesn’t understand, nor does she think Miyeon truly does either. She bets the girl memorized that line from some online study guide. Sparknotes perhaps. 

“Yes! That’s correct, could you elaborate further on your point?” Shuhua tunes the ensuing conversation out. It’s not worth paying attention to them when Miyeon is simply stroking the professor’s ego. Saying all the right answers the professor wants to hear. 

Shuhua can’t wait for class to end. This was boring, mind paralysing, soul draining. The professor himself is bad enough. Adding on Miyeon is another issue. Those two can go on forever about a dumb children’s book. About ‘other mothers’ and ‘other worlds.’ 

No. She can’t take this anymore. Shuhua’s eye twitches in irritation and she stands up and leaves. Closing the door, she heads to the washroom down the hallway. 

It’s not that she needs the latrines desperately, but it’s a good place to question her life decisions. Such as why she decided to pose as a university student or why she decided to sign up for English 235. The heavens know she doesn’t need the education. What was a 54 year old man going to teach her, a being as old as time, in a musty cramped classroom? 

Stepping into the washroom, she locks the door, hauls herself onto the counter, sitting beside the sink. Shuhua leans back against the cold mirror. 

Inhale. Exhale. Taking her phone out of her pocket, a single glaring notification pops out. She can hear it in her head, the content of the voice message. Shuhua grins in anticipation. Finally, there’s work to do. 

The door opens with a bang, lock in tatters. Huffing greets her ears. Mouth curled, narrow eyes trained upon her figure. Of course. Who else would it be? 

“Why did you go?” asks Miyeon. Her voice is barely contained, anger seeping through the cracks. Shuhua shrugs, staring back at her. 

“You broke another door again and this is the twelfth time. You should consider donating a hefty sum to the school.” Shuhua pockets her phone.

“That’s not important right now. Did you get another mission?”

“Yeah—”

“And you planned to leave without me?” 

“It just sort of happens. You were busy with the professor.” Miyeon groans at Shuhua’s words.

“Nothing is more important than a mission,” says Miyeon. 

“Well, that’s funny coming from you. I’m going.” Shuhua walks out, not bothering to glance at Miyeon. 

Footsteps sound behind her. “I’m coming with you.” 

Quickening her pace, Shuhua breaks into a jog. From the scabbard at her hip, she unsheathes a curved single-edged obsidian blade with a squared white guard. 

The unmistakable hum of approval. Miyeon. Without looking back, Shuhua knows the other girl has done the same, drawing her own weapon. An ivory bow, black arrows in her quiver strapped to her back. “Where are the monsters, Shuhua?” 

“Outside the biology building. Nine imps. One geist.” Imps are easy to deal with. They’re tiny creatures of evil, but they’re more of an annoyance than a threat. The geist is the real problem. Hardly ever seen, they almost never appear during the day. Glowing red eyes, stretched jaws. Those wispy monstrosities with four arms, without a solid body, breathing out ice. 

“Great. Make sure you aim for the geist’s eyes,” says Miyeon. 

“Who doesn’t know that? We’ve been doing this for 400 years.”

“I know, it’s... that we’re old and we sometimes forget.” Some things are better left unsaid. Some feelings are better left forgotten. They don’t talk, focusing on running. Out into the courtyard, past the fountain. 

Soon the monsters are in sight. Nine small and ugly horned creatures and one icy geist. The creatures stiffen, sensing their presence. Their heads turn to face them, hungering for the souls of grim reapers. 

A deafening roar echoes in the air. Chirpy snarling follows. 

“Stay out of my way,” mutters Shuhua.

“You do the same.” They scatter, bolting to opposite sides as the imps charge towards them. To her far left, Shuhua sees Miyeon deftly draw her bow, shooting the imps. Turning them into black ash immediately. The girl is precise and Shuhua can appreciate that.

The geist’s howl catches Shuhua’s attention. The air is cold, the hairs on her arms rising. Just in time, she jumps out of the way. Narrowly avoiding the blast of air. Which would’ve turned her into a frozen reaper. 

Whirling around, Shuhua lunges with her blade, aimed at the geist’s eyes. Her blade doesn’t connect, missing. The geist has flown up higher, out of her reach. Its jaws widen, cold air swirling, ready to fire. 

It isn’t aiming for her. Shuhua turns. Shouts. Hopes it is enough. 

“Miyeon!” An explosion of ice detonates, freezing everything in a seven feet radius. The trees, the fountain, the biology building. Frozen. She can’t see the imps. Or Miyeon.

The air is now downright numbing. Shuhua tries to move, knees on the ground, but her feet are stuck. The ice snaring her legs, rooting her. 

The geist screeches and Shuhua hears it. Its clacking jaws, ready to tear through her heart. Whizzing through the sky. She closes her eyes. 

Except she never feels it. All is suddenly quiet.

“Miyeon?” Her eyes open and she sees the geist. A pure black arrow through its eyes. 

A last howl and the creature crumbles into ashes. 

Then she sees her. Crouching behind some bushes, bow out. Arms shaking. Miyeon runs towards her, falling to her knees before Shuhua. 

“What were you thinking?” Miyeon cries.

“But I didn’t die.” Shuhua doesn’t notice it at first. Miyeon’s cheeks are shining, wet streaks rolling, falling. Her own eyes begin to sting a bit. 

“Don’t leave me behind. We’re too old for that,” Miyeon says. No matter how much Shuhua tries to ignore the other girl, how much she tries to annoy her, certain things are still the same. 

“I won’t.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this short drabble because there are so little mishu fics. The ship is really cute and I a;sdlfkjasd.


	2. look the other way for me

Shuhua can only think about the cold floor and how her butt is lacking in volume, causing an uncomfortable deep, dull pain. Sitting on the floor, she wraps her arms around her legs. Tucking her knees close to her body. Wishing she could escape, disappear into thin air. 

Miyeon’s face betrays nothing. Sitting in the exact same position, a foot away from her, the older girl stares into the far corner of the room.  Shuhua brings her own knees even closer. She supposes it’s time for the same old scene to run its course. 

A short girl with bobbed hair paces back and forth. Pausing for a second, then resuming her shuffling.  The girl finally stops, looking at them directly. Disappointment swimming, swelling with each breath. 

"Did you guys really have to blow up the research institute?" the girl asks. 

"Miyeon did it her by herself," says Shuhua, not bothering to lift her chin. 

"Yeh Shuhua led the imps to the chemistry lab, full of flammable materials," says Miyeon.

“She wanted to call me an impulsive child, but she’s dumb. So she said ‘explosive child’ instead.” 

“To which Shuhua retorted with ‘I’ll show you fireworks.’” Voices louder than before. Rising, rising. Something about the way Miyeon said that irks Shuhua. 

“Instigator–”

"I don't care about who did what. Both of you are suspended from your duties for a week," growls Soyeon.

"But that's too long! Soyeon-"

"Shuhua, you've been alive for centuries. A week is nothing to you. Yuqi, Minnie, and Soojin are more than capable of covering your tasks," says Soyeon. Shuhua doesn't say anything more, biting her lip. A faint metallic taste rolls around the tip of her tongue. 

"This is not the first time you two have damaged school property. Miyeon, I expected better from you. Shuhua is already a lost cause," continues Soyeon.

"Hey!" Soyeon glares at Shuhua, daring her to speak again. 

"Your actions have consequences, never forget that." Soyeon turns to the door, leaving them alone. 

Their leader’s eyes were on Shuhua, but Soyeon's last warning was specifically for Miyeon. They all know that. 

Decaying memories flood her and Shuhua hates that she can still remember. That cold night. Damp ripped clothes clinging to her body, fresh wounds decorating her skin. 

An ivory bow hovering above her. 

* * *

They don't get up right away, choosing to sit for a while longer. Maybe she could annoy Miyeon into leaving and then she could be alone in this room. Reflecting on her actions like how Soyeon always tells her to. 

"Why do you let Soyeon trample over you? Over us?" Shuhua mutters. 

"She's our leader. Her word is law and it's as simple as that. Anything else is irrelevant," replies Miyeon, eyes almost fluttering shut. Where their conversation is heading might be too much for Miyeon. The girl is evidently tired, but Shuhua can’t help it. 

"Huh. A couple hundred years ago, you would've never said that."

“Things change. Everything is different now.” 

“And accept being treated as unruly idiots? You would’ve fought Soyeon if she pulled the same stunt. You’ve gone soft. Weak.” The effect is immediate. The familiar clenched jaw, those tensing muscles. 

“For a fool hung up on the past, I’m surprised you’re still alive,” says Miyeon. Taunting. Pushing her to retaliate. She supposes she has succeeded in making the older girl angry. Shuhua knows those are empty words at the end of the day. They don’t bother her. 

Words don’t hurt. Not when they’re full of hypocrisy. 

Shuhua looks away. Looks at the table. At anywhere, but Miyeon. 

“What can I say? I miss running around freely, without a guard dog at my shoulders. Hounding my every move,” says Shuhua. 

Now there’s only the hum of the lights. She waits for a snarling retort, an unrestrained burst of anger. Even Shuhua admits that was a low blow. 

It comes as a surprise when she hears Miyeon’s voice. It’s vulnerable.

“I do miss it.” Then Shuhua sees the girl’s eyes hardening. Changing.

“I miss the times before I saved you. That one night centuries ago, in the rain.” The words come out steadily, without a hint of regret. 

“Then you should have left me there on the street,” says Shuhua. 

“Yes. I should have done that.” Miyeon stands, footsteps light, leaving. 

The older girl is gone and Shuhua can think properly again. Without any bitterness clouding her mind. 

* * *

An entire week off and today is the first day of nothing. 

Shuhua guesses a week of nothing is also a blessing in disguise. She hasn’t had a break in a long while and her bed is extra warm at the moment. It’s good to be a burrito with blankets wrapped around her. 

There’s something nice in just living in the moment as a burrito. Except that can’t last forever. 

The bell to her front door rings once, loud and clear through her apartment. Then again, a third time. Finally, the ringing is simply a constant. 

Shuhua reluctantly rolls off her bed. Shuffles to the door and prays it’s not who she thinks it is. Flings open her door. 

She guesses she should go to church more often, disguised amongst mortals. Because her prayers never come true. 

Miyeon pushes her aside, striding into her apartment like she owns it. The girl dumps a plastic bag of pears onto the couch. 

“Truce?” Miyeon asks. 

“Why not.” The bag full of pears appear on her couch every time they get into a fight. It’s somewhat of a routine now. They would usually stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. But they’re both stubborn to a fault. 

Eventually, one of them would leave, exhausted by the silence. 

Shuhua decides she should skip all the waiting today. Even if it means she is nonsensically kicking herself out of her own apartment. Temporarily, of course. 

“Ok then,” says Shuhua, reaching down, bringing shoes to her feet. In the corner of her eye, she sees Miyeon curling onto the couch beside the pears.

“Ok.” 


	3. starving to understand myself

_ 400 years ago  _

It’s one of those days. Miyeon holds out her hand, palm facing up. Droplets fall, gently hitting her skin. The sky is darker than before, signalling an incoming storm. 

Fathers, mothers, children. All quickening their steps, keen to avoid the rain. Though for Miyeon, there is no rush. She’s hanging around, not minding the dirt coating her feet. Just like a street rat. 

She has forever. Time isn’t fleeting; she can watch it spill between her fingers and she wouldn’t blink. A rainstorm is the least of her worries. Frowning, Miyeon recalls the last thought flitting through her mind. 

Hunger. 

Striking her bones, clawing at her stomach even though she already ate. This aching feeling lingers, rooting itself inside, similar to an unwanted child. A parasite. 

It’s not starvation because she doesn’t need to eat. 

Maybe she has confused hunger for something else. She seems to be doing that a lot more recently, mistaking things, ignoring the truth. 

Soyeon scolds her more and more, hounding her for her errors. Small blunders could happen to anyone, but perhaps it’s true Miyeon has been a bit disconnected from the world, having her head in the clouds. A reminder is welcome every now and then to pull her back to what is real. 

Otherwise, she’d think that Soyeon was challenging her authority. Her position as leader of the reapers. 

Insecurity over such a trivial matter would be her downfall. There really is no reason for her to doubt Soyeon. The girl only wants the best for all of them and she trusts her as her second-in-command. 

In the meantime, Miyeon will take whatever she can today and enjoy her patrol. She had slipped away from the girls, saying that she'll be fine on her own. 

What kind of a leader would she be if she can't even handle pesky monsters by herself?

Before she left, the girls had looked at her, emotion clouding their eyes. Miyeon has it figured out. It’s pity and concern. 

* * *

Freedom is wandering the streets alone at night, occasionally shooting at monsters with her bow. Seeing them crumble, leaving behind mountains of ashes, is satisfying. The way her arrows cleanly pierce through their eyes comforts her. 

She should probably return since she has slain a more than sufficient amount of imps. The entire human population could be alive for a millennia thanks to her actions today. Yet it still isn’t enough.  For once, nobody is watching her for mistakes. No one has propped her up on a pedestal, waiting for her to come painfully crashing down in shame. 

Miyeon is allowed to deal with her wants, chasing after liberty, sating her own selfish needs. Her yearning has briefly retreated. 

The rain soaks through her clothes, but she keeps going, seeking new prey. Never mind the cold wet fabric clinging to her body, this is the first time in a long while that she has felt this good. 

Her fingers grip her bow, refusing to let go. One more round down the alley wouldn’t hurt. She walks quietly, alert for any signs of trouble. 

A low growl reaches her ears and her pulse quickens. Miyeon reaches for an arrow, preparing to nock it. She shuffles slowly, heading further into the alley, scanning with care. 

Another growl, even louder, but that isn’t all. Underneath the hideous horned creature, is a young woman. White tunic in shreds, diluted red seeping through. Razor-sharp claws above her chest. 

With a practiced motion, Miyeon lets her arrow fly through the air, slicing the horns off. Torment erupts on the creature’s face. It screams and screams. 

Then it turns towards her. Racing at an inhuman speed, claws extended. She doesn’t blink, pulling out the dagger strapped to her thigh. 

At the last second, she lowers herself, claws cutting through strands of hair. Driving her knife into the monster’s side. 

White runes snake all over its body, defiling grotesquerie. 

And she’s left with frost drifting to the ground. 

Cracking her knuckles, Miyeon stands straight, stretching. Fastens the dagger back to her thigh. She heads over to the woman, just to see if she’s still alive. 

The woman’s face tells her she can’t be more than thirty. If Miyeon had to guess, she’d be around 20 years old. There’s not even a wrinkle in sight. 

Miyeon throws her head to the sky, a muted laugh escaping. Soyeon. Minnie. Soojin. Yuqi. They’re all wrong. It’s not the disappointed expressions adorning their eyes. 

This is pity. 

Her own hunger returns in full force. The reaper checks her bow for the last time, grabbing a final arrow. The woman’s chest barely rises up and down. Shallow breaths, lessening. 

She knows fatal wounds when she sees them. 

* * *

Staggering, Miyeon pants, entering the room. Four pairs of eyes lock onto the body slung over her shoulders. Incredulous gazes directed her way. 

“Miyeon, with all due respect, but is… is that a human girl?” voices Yuqi, wavering. Not bothering to answer right away, Miyeon lowers the girl onto the floor, tearing what’s left of the tunic away. Revealing gaping cuts. 

“Soojin. Minnie. Get over here and help me,” says Miyeon. The two reapers begin to come to her side, but an arm darts out, halting them in their path. 

“What is going on?” Soyeon’s tone is low. Guttural. 

“Not now,” Miyeon mutters, hands busy, pressing cloth in vain to stop the flow of blood.

“Help me save her, please,” she adds. No one comes closer. Miyeon looks up, glaring at them. Looking pointedly at Minnie and Soojin, she tries again. 

“Heal the girl right now.” She has never taken to the healing arts like with the bow. Miyeon curses herself under her breath. 

“The girl will become a reaper if we heal her, you know that right?” squeaks out Soojin. 

“I do!” she yells. Minnie and Soojin’s eyes shift to Soyeon who is still blocking them. They don’t try at all. Then Miyeon understands. She has been such a fool. 

“I’ll do anything!” She hopes she doesn’t regret this. She should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. 

“Anything?” says Soyeon. Miyeon clenches harder, gripping the ripped fabric. 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading


	4. keep me far from elysium

There’s no brand on her arms, no lashes on her back. Nothing to remind her that she has fallen, landing at the bottom, writhing without an audience. Grasping for salvation. Prestige. The scars are there, naked to her own eye.

They are very real to her. Miyeon wonders if she’s nearing insanity, tormenting herself over an inevitable fact. Something predestined, planned from the moment of birth. 

In the wee hours of morning, Miyeon wakes to clarity. Disillusionment. The others do not greet her, do not approach her. Excluding Soyeon, their heads are bowed, refusing to look her in the eye. 

Minnie, who was the closest to her, teasing smiles thrown with ease. Soojin, shyer than the rest, content with being a pillar of comfort. The boisterous Yuqi, a live firecracker in their midst. They were animated and full of life. 

Now that is all gone. Miyeon hasn’t had the time to process. She just has to accept and ingrain it the best she can. 

Words were never needed to be spoken aloud. Soyeon was crowned leader, silently, without discussion. Miyeon had looked to each of them, her gaze lingering on Minnie, but Minnie was staring elsewhere. 

She could feel the admiration, the adoration, the highest of regards emanating from her eyes. Directed at Soyeon. Lifting the girl, allowing her to soar higher than they ever did for Miyeon. 

It’s uncanny and surreal how fast her life changes because of a split-second decision made in the heat of the night. She was certainly prepared to kill the girl, sparing her of her misery and suffering. 

Her mind had betrayed her. Stalling and finally stopping her hand from striking down with her arrow. Miyeon cannot believe herself even now. She had picked up the girl, telling herself it was nothing, that consequences exist only if she believes in them. Then she had hauled a stranger, a human, back to their abode in hopes of breathing a second life into the girl. 

It’s still too early to tell whether it was worth it. She certainly hopes it was. 

Force grips her shoulder and Miyeon turns around, facing her peers. She follows them out of the house, obeying with unfamiliarity. Climbing up, onto the rooftop where Soyeon sits, awaiting. 

“We need to talk about last night,” says Soyeon. How she wishes she could avoid this, but she must give respect even if they haven’t earned it. When they removed her right, her authority. Miyeon sits, joining their circle, faces illuminated by the moonlight. 

“Where did the girl come from?” Soyeon radiates power, dominance. Someone has adjusted rather quickly. 

“I found her in an alley, moments from dying.” God, she doesn’t recognize her own voice. It’s weak. Croaking like an elder on her last breath. 

“Why save her then?” Miyeon doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t know why, she can’t put a name to it. A label or anything. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Miyeon, you understand better than everyone else, what it means to be a reaper.” She does. She was the first of them all, born with a bow in hand, arrow in the other. 

“You have not saved her, you have condemned an innocent girl to an eternal life of servitude. She was not born or created to be a reaper. She does not understand and will not understand our purpose, our lives.” 

“I will help her. Make her. Force her if necessary,” replies Miyeon. The others are visibly tense, nervous for Soyeon’s response. Beside her, Minnie wraps purple and black ropes around her biceps, tightening them. Muscles rippling. 

“Hey. I’m going to get a headstart. Yuqi, come with me,” says Minnie. 

“I’ll come too,” adds Soojin. The three reapers bid them farewell, jumping off the rooftop. Miyeon swallows her desire to beg them to stay. She must come to terms with her current reality. 

“The human girl will wake soon. Teach her,” says Soyeon. An unnatural pause. It’s telling that Soyeon has more to say, but she is holding herself back. Miyeon latches onto the tiny detail.  Human. 

“I will.” Miyeon stands, ready to confront her mistake. Her mistake. Is that what it really is? The consequences, her doubts, are slowly sinking in. She really should’ve thought everything through. Before she takes the leap, Soyeon calls to her. 

“It is done.” The corners of her mouth faintly turn up, hearing those words. A tedious familiarity, reminding her to be unapologetic. Unashamed. 

“You always tell us that,” says Soyeon.

* * *

The girl is pale. Slender. Seems to be listening well so far, taking in everything without commenting. Her face is unreadable. When Miyeon finishes explaining who they are, what they do, she’s met with a single question. 

“Am I immortal?” says the girl. Miyeon is a bit confused, she thought she explained it already. 

“Yes.” 

“So I can’t die?” 

“You can die to monsters.”

“But if I don’t, I’ll live forever. I’ll watch everyone else grow old and I won’t change.” Miyeon nods, scrutinizing the girl’s expression. Still blank like an empty canvas. She wants to know what she’s thinking. What she actually feels about this.

“Are you disappointed?” says Miyeon.

“No.” Was that a lie? Speaking with her is difficult. A fixed expression separates her from this girl, from knowing whether she is actually alright with her new identity. 

If Miyeon hasn’t been told explicitly that something is wrong, she shouldn’t assume. She’ll continue moving forward as if everything is fine. Constant guessing will wear her down, causing unnecessary emotional baggage. 

“Okay. Let’s begin.” Miyeon runs through in her head the rest of today’s plan. She can’t just take the girl to the middle of the city and expect her to start beheading monsters. Granted that reapers do have enhanced physical capabilities, but no one is that good without training. So first, the girl needs a weapon to protect herself. Miyeon wonders if the girl would be an archer like her. If the girl is another sword wielder, another sword enthusiast—

Wait. She’s jumping ahead of herself again. 

“I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” 


	5. we're burning under vivid skies

No attempts at conversation and Miyeon keeps it that way. She might as well have been alone for the past hour except there’s the patter of footsteps and the occasional huff. 

She didn’t have a destination in mind, leading Shuhua to the middle of nowhere. Her feet just happened to take her up the mountain, which in hindsight, might’ve been too excessive. Any place out of sight, far from prying eyes would do. 

Even though humans are unable to see their weapons, it would be inconvenient to train her in the city. 

She turns to face her new companion. It feels a bit clumsy saying the girl’s name aloud so she doesn’t. 

“Hold this.” She hands Shuhua one of her black arrows, praying everything will happen accordingly. In theory, this should work and Miyeon has thought about it a lot. Perhaps too much. Miyeon steps back, waiting. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” says Shuhua. 

“Hold it.”

“Why?” 

“Just do it.” Miyeon ignores Shuhua’s judgemental stare, opting to focus on the arrow itself. Her gaze almost burning a hole. Shuhua, still holding the arrow, waves it awkwardly in circles. 

The problem is that reapers aren’t created. They’re born and when that happens, their weapons are already by their sides. Miyeon had been expecting a sword, a staff, or even a deadly farming tool to be there when she went to wake Shuhua. 

Nothing had appeared overnight. Frustration wracking her mind, she let the girl sleep for another hour so that she could go out and slay monsters. And to ruminate on a solution. 

Since Shuhua does not have a weapon herself, she must obtain a pre-existing one. 

“Can I give it back to you?” 

“No.” Miyeon convinces herself that this will work. See, that arrowhead is elongating. The feather tips? Molting. A long slender grip? Growing. She blinks, confirming what’s unfolding is actually real. A smile tugs on her lips as Miyeon watches the unordinary spectacle before her very eyes. In a flash, she wipes it off her face because she must welcome another sword enthusiast to the group. 

There is only Soojin with her serrated twin blades, but one sword wielder is already too many for Miyeon. If she could pick for her fellow reapers, they would be shooting arrows everyday. 

“Wow,” says Shuhua. Sheer wonder erasing skepticism. Shuhua inspects the weapon, tilting it with care. Single edged steel, slightly curved. Two hands on the coal black grip. Finished with a white guard. 

“How does it feel?”

“Well balanced. Not too heavy or light.” 

“Good.” The sun is setting, warm hues of red dipping below the horizon. An idea springs to mind, impulse driving her actions. It’ll be fine. 

“Make your way down the mountain and meet me back at the house. Preferably before sunrise,” says Miyeon. 

“What? You can’t do this to me!” Miyeon doesn’t look, sprinting, the landscape blurring into a single mesh of chroma. 

She reaches the bottom at a record time. Breathless. Miyeon staggers to the giant oak, the fire in her lungs compelling her to rest. Dropping, leaning against the trunk. 

Her body feels awful. The smallest of muscles shriek from exertion. Never mind walking home when a nap is infinitely more appealing. 

She doesn’t dwell on her sudden uncharacteristic tiredness, preferring to think about the girl she ditched at the top. 

Shuhua will be okay. She’s no longer a fragile human, she has enhanced reflexes, strength. The mountain is teeming with monsters at sundown, but the girl can probably survive. Handle herself. Diving headfirst into the mess is the best kind of training she can receive. 

* * *

“Wake up.” Miyeon refuses to open her eyes. 

“Wake up, you evil hag.” Prodding at her cheeks. Miyeon grumbles, swatting the hand away. Seconds pass. All at once, air is knocked out of her lungs, a scream replacing tranquility. Pain seizing her chest. Her eyes shoot open. 

“What was that for?” says Miyeon, clutching her ribs. She doesn’t need to see to know there’s a black and blue mark forming. In the distance, she notices the drowsy orange peeking from the dark. It’s dawn. 

“You left me alone on the mountain!” says Shuhua. Miyeon scans the girl from head to toe. Hair unkempt. Bruises, burns, and dirt, not a single spot is untouched. Light cuts are scattered here and there, crimson blooming on her skin, but it’s unfair, isn’t it? The stars will align for certain individuals, blessing, gracing them with the beauty of broken glass. When they’ve nearly been smashed to smithereens by freakish creatures of the night. 

“You rolled down the mountain?” Another punch, this time in the shoulder. A twinge ripples through her body, fading just as quickly. 

“I can’t believe you were sleeping here while I was fighting for my life,” says Shuhua. 

“You didn’t die! Isn’t that good?”

“That’s not it!” 

“But that is it, you should learn to protect yourself above all others first! That is the lesson you should’ve learned on your way down.” 

“You gave me a sword and told me to figure out how to swing it while a hundred yellow spiders chased me. Spitting lightning at my feet,” growls Shuhua. 

Their match escalates in fervor, in intensity. “Why are you shouting?” yells Miyeon. She’s certain she will lose her voice tomorrow. 

“Because a giant spider electrocuted me! I don’t know, why shouldn’t I not scream at you?” 

“You didn’t even raise your voice when I told you, you now live forever.”

“I’m shy with strangers!” It was the tone, the blatant voice crack. Clashing with the irony and the peculiarity, triggering an emotion she has almost forgotten. That she had submerged beneath repression. The sound isn't pretty, but it doesn't have to be. Pure unadulterated laughter spills from her mouth and Miyeon can’t remember the last time she had let go. 

“Shy? What are you, a child?” says Miyeon. Shuhua’s face contorts, struggling to answer, her wits lagging behind. 

“Shut up! I’m twenty.” Miyeon would’ve stopped laughing by now, but she continues, seeing Shuhua join in. Rivalling her in volume and equally aware of the ridiculousness. 

Miyeon embraces this juvenile immaturity with her whole being. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by nano - omoide kakera and osu which I finally played again after 6 years.


	6. chaos' daughter was led astray

_ In the beginning, there was Chaos.  _

_ Alone. Always alone.  _

_ She was not spiteful. She was not wrathful. She lived as she was, as she will be.  _

_ With no one by her side.  _

_ Thirst, hunger. Desire. They were all foreign to her. How could she want something unknown to her, something she had never encountered before?  _

_ She only knew solitude. _

_ Yet Chaos could not overcome her nature. Within her depths, there was Strife emerging from the pit of her stomach. She was none the wiser; he grew, latching onto her linings, spreading like pestilence. Gluttonous to the bone, ravenously feeding on her existence.  _

_ Growing and growing until there was nothing more to take. Chaos ceased to be once he had consumed her.  _

_ He burst forth as he lived, as he existed. Pompous, arrogant, and vain. A colossal being, greater than Chaos herself.  _

_ As he breathed his first breaths, his downfall commenced. _

_ He was a stranger to oblivion. Such was the paradox, he had been sheltered within Chaos’ confines, ignorant of what awaited him should he consume her completely. The truth was Chaos had nothing and he had inherited her isolation.  _

_ He wanted praise, he needed attention, but there was no one to give it to him. Lost and wandering, he could not understand Chaos’ disposition. Her indifference to living as she was. In his resentment, he vowed revenge for being cursed to live in a void.  _

_ He split into a thousand, a million parts scattering over the earth. Wickedness was given birth in all forms; grotesque creatures thus began their reign of misery. Roaming over the void.  _

_ But Strife was not alone when he grew within Chaos. There was his twin who did not latch onto Chaos’ linings, choosing to flourish and thrive on her own.  _

_ She was Order. A lawful being aware of her brother’s transgression, she could not tolerate the mayhem he inflicted upon the world. Order sprung from Chaos, rising to Strife’s challenge.  _

_ From her own flesh, Order shaped her warriors, her reapers of monsters. One by one, fully grown. A rib from each of their chests, fashioned into the strongest steel, she laid it all in their hands. Closing their fingers so they would grasp it tightly.  _

_ And so they were born to serve Order and defeat Strife.  _

_ The reapers were not without flaws for Order was Chaos’ daughter. They were not perfect; Order could not craft them to be invincible and faultless. Chaos would live on through Order’s creations and her malevolent blood lent to the reapers’ imperfections.  _

_ Afflicted with the thrill of the hunt, the reapers were bound as servants, chasing after their prey in an eternal hunt.  _

_ Demise would come swiftly should they refuse, laying down their arms.  _

_ With her last breath, Order succumbed to exhaustion. The remains of her blood spilled on the ground and mortals arose as her final creations.  _

_ It was an unforeseen consequence. Order had not fed on Chaos, she was ill and sickly. Her frailty manifested as humanity, fragile creatures forever susceptible to the monsters of Strife.  _

* * *

Miyeon stands by the door, watching Shuhua talk to Yuqi and Minnie. Quips and jokes flow naturally between the three of them. She can hear bits of their conversation though it doesn’t make sense to her. Miyeon isn’t really keen on eavesdropping, she’s trying to stop fidgeting.

There’s also the uncomfortable lump in her throat she’s been failing to clear. 

“Shuhua, we have to go,” she says. Shuhua rolls her eyes, following her through the door, waving goodbye to the other girls. Once they’re out of earshot, leaping from roof to roof, Shuhua launches into their usual small talk. Except the topic of the day fills her with dread. 

“What’s with you and the others? You’re so awkward with them, haven’t you known them for a long time?” Well, she did expect this conversation to come sooner or later, but not now.

“Things change.” 

“Yeah? What happened?” Miyeon runs faster, leaps higher. Shuhua will surely struggle with the pace. 

“We had an argument.” She doesn’t say it very loud, hoping the wind would help in drowning it out, but Shuhua picks it up anyway. 

“It must have been a big one, you act like they burn you every time you see them. They act like you slaughtered their hypothetical golden cattle,” shouts Shuhua, somewhere behind her. 

“I might as well have.” 

“Oh? Do tell me.” Why is she still asking? Miyeon has noticed that Shuhua has a habit of pushing further, always trying to get more out of her. Be it her temper because it’s fun to tease her or information, which Miyeon hates giving. She doesn’t know how to properly craft the sort of explanations Shuhua is looking for. 

“Maybe later,” Miyeon says. Landing, feet skidding on the roof tiles, bracing herself with her hands. Stopping. 

She squints, on the stakeout for her targets. The past week, there have been consecutive monster attacks in the town square. She has asked around, but all she got were descriptions of hulking figures, nonhuman, taller than the average man. 

Zero traces of them. No blood, the site is always clean. The only sign that there were attacks are the disappearing villagers. And the reports of guttural groaning just as the victim vanishes.

She knows better, they can’t simply vanish. It must be the work of monsters, too fast for the human eye. 

Weight barrels into her. Hands shooting out, she teeters over the edge. Heart beating faster. Losing her balance.

A grip pulls her, wrenching her back forcefully and she lurches, tumbling onto her butt. She whips around, glaring at the perpetrator. 

“I landed too hard, thanks for breaking my fall,” says Shuhua, shaking her hand, rotating her wrist. 

“Can’t you be more graceful?” Miyeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. Shuhua has been consistently crash landing, literally crashing into her. It’s not a coincidence that it happens whenever she purposely runs ahead of Shuhua. 

“It’s not my style.” This isn’t the time to lose her temper. Miyeon clambers closer to the edge again, re-focusing on her task. 

There. In the shadows, skulking around. 

“Six of them,” she mumbles. She draws her bow, closing her right eye. She’ll have to be quick. 

“What are those? Upper human bodies, deer for the lower, skulls as heads,” says Shuhua. Skeletal, half human, half stag. Large gaping jaws in the middle of their torsos. Flaking dried blood, peeling off long thin teeth. “Do they chew with their chests?” 

“Undead Cervitaurs. You have to crack their skulls and cut off their antlers.” No reply. Miyeon holds her breath, seeing movement. The largest of them all twitches, stepping forward, its eyes trained on a nearby unwary child. Her arrow is ready to fly. 

Then everything goes wrong.

From nowhere, cascading black hair fills her vision. Blocking her target. Miyeon doesn’t have a clear shot. The girl below pushes the child, just as the Cervitaurs lunge, sending the boy out of their path. Swinging her sword, stabbing wildly. Her breath quickens realizing it's Shuhua. 

The throng of villagers scream, running for their lives. “Get out!” Miyeon shouts. 

“I’m saving the child!” yells Shuhua. The monsters gradually surround Shuhua, still hacking at torsos. Blade passing through as if they were ghosts. Eyes widening.

There’s her answer. Shuhua had not listened to her advice, dashing recklessly into the fray. At the first sight of danger. 

Miyeon doesn’t hesitate. She jumps, rolling, absorbing the impact. “The antlers! Cut them off!” 

“What?!” 

“Cut the antlers off!” Miyeon fires arrow after arrow, but the Cervitaurs seem to sense them coming. The arrows whistle through the air. 

Missing by a hair. 

“I’m trying!” 

Miyeon weaves through the frightened crowd, hands moving, shooting incessantly. Slowly losing strength, trying to find the perfect angle. Coming down was a poor choice. 

She has lost the element of surprise. 

Everything feels heavy. Damn it, every time she fought this week, she had felt extremely tired. But never this intense. She’s swaying lightly. She can’t lose consciousness now. 

The Cervitaurs converge on Shuhua; the girl is out of sight, covered by the horde. A sudden wave of nausea hits her. Miyeon shakes her head. It’ll have to pass. 

Trying to clear her mind, she can hear snarling. Cries of anger. 

Shuhua. The girl is still there. Miyeon stumbles, taking a step. 

Everything, the buildings, the trees, the market stalls, they’re all swaying. Woozy dizziness, inhaling feels like fire going in. She takes another step. 

She can do it. She has to get to higher ground. Mind numbing, running to the nearest house. Hands reaching up, one foot, the other following. She climbs, holding on with her remaining strength.

Everything is heavy. Her body is swaying, shaking. As her eyelids shut, Miyeon sees them in the corner. Purple and black. She can't hold on any longer. 

She plummets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you, the lore behind the reapers’ creation! It contains hints for the direction of the story so let the speculation begin. (It also exposes me as a mythology nerd, but we been knew. Who writes stories on monsters without obsessively reading about Kronos eating his kids?) 


	7. crying for dead bugs

Side effects. A loss of appetite, insomnia, inexplicable mood swings. Endless tears. She’d rather take all of that. 

No one told her or warned her of the side effects, if they could be labeled as such. Actually, she was informed in some ways, courtesy of the pleading Minnie and Soojin, begging her to reconsider at the time. But she knew from the start things would be different, that there might be complications. 

That was it. Complications. Not too big, small enough for her to handle, they wouldn’t involve sending her unconscious at the drop of a hat. 

More accurately, not the drop of a hat, but the swings of a sword. To be even more precise, the sweep of a blade forged from her own physical being, wielded not by her hands. 

Her body was crafted, sculpted with care and anger to defy limitations. She can jump higher, reach farther, run faster. She’s strong, stronger than ten men, she can send them crawling back to their mothers in a heartbeat. 

Almost nothing is unimaginable, she is blessed with a bow, materializing from the bones of her body; her arrows are her flesh, dipped in the fire of her blood. Her weapons are not simple manifestations of her soul. 

No, that is too superficial. The connection to her weapons is more than an effortless, run-of-the-mill projection. 

She is her bow. She is her arrow. 

They are like any limb, any organ. Vital, intimate parts of herself. 

If there are cracks in her bow, if her arrows snap in two, it would be the same as if she loses a leg, if her kidneys fail. 

When she had her first hunt, her pulse raced in tandem with the whistling of her arrows, flying, piercing through, finding the weak spots of her targets. Her heart was singing and chanting for their deaths, like a disease that had to be fed on the daily. 

When the monsters finally laid motionless on the ground, she felt it for the first time. The onset of fatigue, wearing down her aching muscles, the need to rest overcame the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

The high was worth it. The sensation of extreme euphoria single-handedly compensates for the physical exhaustion that comes with the hunt. 

As exhilaration rejuvenated her mind, the truth was her body was strained. She was on the brink, taxing her strength. 

Through the years, she had held on and learned her limits. She adapted and pushed herself to the brink, on the cusp, never straying too far. 

She has always wondered what would break her. 

* * *

Their poor attempts at whispering wake her. Shuhua and… Soojin. Soojin’s voice is impossibly quiet, Miyeon is almost struggling to hear her. As for Shuhua, nothing more needs to be said. 

The girl’s voice is booming, there’s no difference between Shuhua talking beside her ear and Shuhua whispering. 

Miyeon pretends to be asleep, catching her name being mentioned.

“She’s like this because of you. Lucky for her, Yuqi and Minnie were on patrol nearby when you guys ran into trouble.”

“What did I do?”

“The better question is what did Miyeon do.” Fault. Accountability. There’s no more uncertainty surrounding why she’s currently strapped to a bed.

“Where did you get it?” says Soojin. The telltale unsheathing of a sword. 

It all goes back to Shuhua's katana. A weapon the girl shouldn’t have been gifted. Miyeon isn’t ignorant, it’s not like she’s clueless.

Everything is plain obvious and out in the open now. 

She hears Soojin hiss, the muffled tirade following. The disapproval. Maybe the cause of her fainting spell isn’t just because of the sword. 

Nobody likes rejection. No one enjoys being told they’re incapable and weak, that they’re not there yet. Failure hurts. 

The limits of her body are ever present. 

Sure, she has gotten stronger since her birth. She can handle long arduous fights without tiring. The insinuated weakness? Her body is unable to support the simultaneous use of two weapons. The bow and the sword. 

After years and years of trivial musings, she knows what would finally break her. Even divine beings can hit ceilings thought to be out of reach.

Miyeon manages to catch the last of Soojin’s verbal onslaught. It’s loud and clear. 

“One of you will die.” 

The door slams, footsteps moving down the hall. Miyeon waits for a minute. Make it two. She opens her eyes, hoping she’d be alone in the room. 

Once again, it proves she’s terrible at estimating, Shuhua is sitting on a dinky chair, returning her gaze. Miyeon finds her words after an unwarranted staring contest (she loses). 

“I woke up just now. I have no idea what happened earlier. Soojin was not in the room a few minutes ago.” Red creeps up her neck when she immediately realizes, yes, she had exposed herself for listening in. 

The mass of blankets, the lack of windows, she thinks it’s getting hot in here. Shuhua comes even closer, pulling her chair. Miyeon shrinks away when the girl’s face is near. 

“I want answers. Don’t pretend you weren’t awake, you heard everything,” says Shuhua. 

“What more is there to know?” 

“You’ve conveniently left out a few details.” Swallowing doesn’t soothe her dry throat. Miyeon pushes herself up into a sitting position. 

“How about explaining where my sword comes from? Or why we hunt monsters?” The steely edge, the barely concealed anger, Miyeon has screwed up. Giving her space, Shuhua leans back, crossing her arms. 

“Save me the spiel you told me on my first day. I know there’s more to the story. We don’t kill them for the greater good.” Miyeon wants to interject, to say no and deny everything coming out of Shuhua’s mouth. 

Shuhua doesn’t let her get a word in. “It was never about protecting humans.”

Lies had piled upon lies. She only wanted to ease the blow, to tell the partial truth. The moment she saw innocence on the girl’s face, guilt had sunk in. 

So Miyeon went to greater lengths, spinning tales of heroics. Painting themselves as guardians of the human race when they were nothing of the sort. She told her reapers were created by a benevolent deity to defend humans because a higher moral order existed. 

_ Protecting the weak is what is right.  _ Miyeon wishes she could eat her own words. 

“We aren’t heroes,” says Miyeon. She checks Shuhua’s reaction. “We might as well be the same as the monsters we kill.” 

“Don’t joke around,” warns Shuhua. 

“Look, I mean it, I don’t know how to say this properly, but it’s the truth. You deserve to know.” 

Facing her, Miyeon tells the story of the reapers’ creation from the very beginning. Correcting the white lies. “We are bound in eternal servitude to Order. We kill monsters for our own necessity.” 

She notices Shuhua frowning so she stops. “What is it?”

“You’re still taking the long way around. Get to the point. Make it simple.” Blunt as always. 

“It’s like an addiction. If you don’t hunt monsters and for some reason, decide to stop, you will die,” says Miyeon. 

“How long is that period, between stopping and dying?” None of them have come close to that point, they have never laid down their arms for long. She herself isn’t keen to find out either. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You never know, you only know how to lie,” retorts Shuhua darkly. Spiteful and vindictive, it stings.

The only way to fix this and regain Shuhua’s trust is to continue. She has to lay it all bare. 

“Our weapons are a part of our physical selves.” Miyeon gestures to the sword hanging at the girl’s hip. “Since you don’t have your own, I made one for you. My body has to support both of ours.”

She pauses, thinking of the best way to say it. This is something she has to accept for her own good. For the both of them. 

“I can’t do it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Tldr 1. If you swing your arm many times, you get tired. Same deal with the weapons. 
> 
> Tldr 2. Shuhua is holding Miyeon. Literally. (Her sword, duh.)
> 
> I hereby announce the theme song for the entire work is Mika Nakashima’s Boku ga Shinou to Omotta no Wa (lyrics by amazarashi). 
> 
> Here are some of the translated lyrics that inspired me to write this chapter:
> 
> When I dozed off in its dappled sunlight
> 
> I wondered if I could join all the dead bugs and return to dust
> 
> Source: lyrictranslate
> 
> Thank you guys for reading. 


	8. waiting at the sixth station

“Is that it?” Malice is starkly absent. The Shuhua she has grown to know is gone, replaced by the one she first met. Emotionless. Hard to read, a white canvas. 

“Huh?” Miyeon wasn’t expecting that reaction. She had just told the girl, confirmed what Soojin said isn’t wrong, that one of them will die. Anyone would be enraged. 

Throw a fit while at it, leaving the room at once.

She had saved Shuhua that night, but the girl’s second chance, a life as a reaper, isn’t much better. Maybe it’s even worse. Tagging on a brand new addiction, accompanied with a notice for an arrival to death’s door. 

Honestly, Soojin’s prediction isn’t exactly accurate either. If she herself is the first one to die, then they’ll both perish. She’ll go first, from failing to hunt properly. Once Miyeon is gone, Shuhua’s katana would disintegrate. 

Shuhua would then follow. 

If Shuhua were to somehow die before her, Miyeon would be alive. Given a reset to her life, to the days before she encountered Shuhua. 

The girl is smart. She’s sure Shuhua has this figured out, knows who’s the outlier in the equation. It scares her that Shuhua isn’t being more vocal. 

“I said, is that it?” the girl repeats. 

“Yes.” Shuhua’s fists clench, approaching, dragging the chair. Miyeon closes her eyes. 

“What are you doing,” says Shuhua. She opens them. “You thought I was going to punch you?” 

“Uh, yes? Aren’t you mad?” 

“I don’t hit the defenseless, even if they deserve it.” Miyeon thinks about it. 

“You should punch me.”

“Would that change anything?”

“No, but it might make you feel better. Since I really don’t know what to do, how to go about this.” It’s too late to stop herself. “Face it, who knows if we’ll be here, alive and breathing in a few days.” 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You’re pathetic,” says Shuhua. Eerily calm. Miyeon bristles at that, jaw clamped tight. Reaching her breaking point. She disregards the voice in her head, telling her Shuhua is right. 

Giving in to her anger is easier so she taps into it. Those blank eyes. Lofty and detached demeanor, living like a spectator. So removed from reality. Shuhua doesn’t even sound like she understands what’s at stake. “Should I ask you then to give up your life for me?” 

Shuhua gets up, knocking the chair away. Moving to the door. 

“Immortality apparently doesn’t teach you everything. Giving up without a fight, wasting away, is that all you can do?” 

The door slams hard, rattling on its hinges. The room is silent. Miyeon wraps the blanket tighter around herself, letting her brain empty. Though it’s not good enough. 

Mortals, what occupies their minds when they’re drawing their last breaths? Would they be unafraid at an old age? She has seen people come and go, familiar faces ceasing to be around. 

She has witnessed fearless individuals call for a divine presence who is nowhere to be found; fright and dread wrack their bodies as they pass away. 

Maybe she really is a coward, the same as a human being. Scared to do anything. 

The weightless sinking feeling returns. 

* * *

Sunlight streams through the window and Miyeon stares and stares at the wall. Contemplating. 

The others should still be asleep, it’s early. Lifting her hands, she inspects them. Pale and twitching.

Swinging her feet around on the bed, touching the cold floor, her motions have an almost mechanical quality to them. 

Dress herself. Open the door. Walk out the house. 

She takes off, lungs burning, heading uphill to where she has always found solace. Seeking comfort. 

The tall trees, the thick undergrowth, sharp leaves cut at her, but she ignores them. A stray fallen branch, twisting roots above ground, she isn’t looking. She trips and runs, keeps running, hands pushing off the ground. Finding her pace again. 

She doesn’t want to think anymore. 

When her body is begging, crying for her to stop running, she finally listens. Steps thudding dully, feet stilling. She’s heaving and it’s still not working; her brain repeats everything back to herself.  _ Is that all you can do.  _

She’s supposed to be the older, wiser one here, not Shuhua. Her self-loathing grows. She couldn’t even give loose and vague encouragement, that they’ll get through this together. 

* * *

Expressing her remorse, she has always found it hard. No one regrets killing the monsters, Soyeon never made an apology for her actions. Neither did the others. ‘Sorry’ sticks to her throat, literally having to cough it up and she imagines it’s the same for them too. It’s unnatural and wrong. 

But apologizing can only become easier if she does it more often. She should find Shuhua and talk to her. 

Miyeon gives herself thirty more seconds. Enough time to hunt the miserable monster unfortunate enough to walk the same beat-down, trodden path as hers. 

She had shot at it, her arrow sticking into its back. Rearing, hooves kicking, the winged horse flew into the sky. 

It would tire soon.

She sees the horse spiral to the ground, a little off from where she is. With no time to lose, she runs to its location. 

Hidden by the shrubbery, nocking another arrow, she breathes in. Ready to shoot. 

She doesn’t though. 

Her arrow goes back to her quiver and she brings down her bow. The creature is dead, two familiar serrated swords plunged into its side. 

“That’s how it’s done.” The sickening squelch of flesh as the blades are removed. A bit further away is Shuhua. Mystified and amazed. 

“Can you teach me to be better with the sword?” asks Shuhua. 

Soojin snorts, “Miyeon can’t teach you?”

“She’s not... “

“Very good with a sword. She can only shoot. Useless, huh?” finishes Soojin. 

“Yeah.” Soojin is kidding. The woman has always poked fun at her for using a long-ranged weapon, it’s nothing serious. But Shuhua’s response. 

Miyeon hasn’t seen this before. The depth of emotion on display, a complete divergence from the blank canvas. Hard staring eyes, smoldering. A cold, calculating sharpness to them. 

Shuhua wasn’t joking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from The Sixth Station, a soundtrack from the movie Spirited Away. You can hear it when Chihiro and No-Face are sitting on the train. It’s a very bittersweet and eerie track (the composer, Joe Hisaishi is a genius) 
> 
> Big inspo for this chapter is my experience growing up asian lol. I believe we are almost done with the past flashbacks (I can squeeze maybe one more chapter in) and we shall fast forward to the present very soon. 
> 
> Say goodbye to Miyeon’s pov :D 


	9. bloom where the sun doesn't shine

Shuhua hears Soojin's blades dig deeper, mangling the creature’s remains. Its wings flap helplessly then still. The disgusting squelch of young flesh reminds her of her predicament. 

Soojin had made a tiny quip at the expense of Miyeon. Harmless in intention. 

It ignited belated resentment. The subtlety, her efforts to remain in control of her emotions, to simply not feel. They scattered as soon as the topic turned to Miyeon. 

Out here in the open glade, her disappointment, her grievances and frustrations bursts forth unrestrained. Jarring, surprising herself with how much anger she has contained within. 

“Watching her languish, wretched and broken. Is it wrong of me to hate her?” she asks.

“I believe you have every right to hate her.” Soojin wipes her blades clean on the grass, staining the field. “I'll ask you this. Cattle are saved from the butcher, bathed and cleaned, only to be tied to a plow. Worked to the bone, denied any rest. Would the cattle’s fate have been worse if they were sent to the butcher instead?” 

“No. The cattle obviously wouldn’t have suffered as much if they were immediately chopped up.”

“Now let me rephrase that. The cattle are forced to pull the plow. When they are old, having lost their strength, their utility to the farmer, they will be sent to the butcher. Which is the worse fate?” 

“Working for the farmer. The cattle will never be able to escape the butcher. It’s a fact,” grumbles Shuhua. Losing her patience. “What is with you reapers speaking in riddles?”

“You asked for my opinion. I’m just explaining it to you.”

“It’s a disease. Complicating everything.” 

Soojin laughs wryly, “when you’ve lived as long as we have, you’ll be the same.”

“I hope not. That would mean I’d be a chronic liar who’s a pitiful coward.” The undergrowth rustles, the wind blowing stronger. “After last night, I don’t want to see Miyeon in my sight again.” The bushes shake with larger movements. 

Crows fly from the trees, raucously cawing. Coming off as frightened. 

For a moment, Shuhua imagines Miyeon here. Hidden, listening and holding onto every word. Then fleeing, running from words meant to hurt. It would be poetic justice. Shuhua can almost hear quickening footsteps, bolting from the scene. 

“You don’t hate her,” says Soojin. 

A simple statement, a short comment made from careful observation. Unraveling the ties of her twisted fantasy. Bringing her back to reality. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think you’re capable of hating her. That’s why you’re here, asking me to teach you. Your actions contradict your words. You’d rather cling to the thinnest strand of life than to give in to death’s embrace. You're grateful she saved you to begin with.” 

“Quit it with the metaphors.” Shuhua crosses her arms, not knowing what to do with them. 

“You can’t change the subject.”

“Watch me.” 

“Shuhua. If you really hated Miyeon, you wouldn’t be here. Alive. Wanting to improve so Miyeon wouldn’t tire out as fast.” Annoyance pricks her skin. What does Soojin know about her? Is she that easy to read? “You would’ve walked back into the alley and waited for a monster to finish what should have happened the night Miyeon saved you.” 

Soojin holds her palm out to her, gesturing to her waist. “Let me see.” Begrudgingly, Shuhua unties the cloth, allowing it to flutter to the ground. 

She hands over her sword, sheathed in its scabbard. 

“I didn’t believe you at first. I didn’t think Miyeon would do this. Give a part of herself to you.” Soojin unsheathes the sword, swinging it once. She twirls the hilt, expertly shifting it in her hand. Not a nick on her fingers.

“But this blade reeks of her soul. Simple and sturdy, nothing fancy. It’s light and easy to wield. As if it was designed for novices,” Soojin remarks. 

The sword plunges into the dirt with force. Sticking upright. “Miyeon has always been the kindest of us all.” 

“She would question why we hunt. She would look behind her shoulder, wondering why is it that she couldn’t save the little girl in the red dress. The boy with calloused hands and painful blisters from the forge. She pushed herself to hunt even when she was satiated.” 

Shuhua understands where Soojin is coming from. Yesterday, the stain of guilt was palpable. Miyeon’s lies were mercy in their own abnormal way; it’s not hard to understand the soft-hearted intent. 

“Miyeon tells us she wants to challenge herself and that’s why she hunted more than the rest of us combined. None of us believe her though.” Soojin pauses briefly, the ghost of a sardonic smile threatening to appear. Half-lidded eyes, finding humor in something beyond Shuhua’s knowledge. 

“We were wondering when she’d actually save someone, have us turn a human into a reaper. Then it finally happened,” says Soojin. “We didn’t think she’d do anything, even go as far as relinquishing her title, the source of her honour, to save you. Being the leader was her pride.” 

Everything clicks into place. The badly concealed longing stares when Shuhua cracked jokes with Minnie and Yuqi. The discomfort whenever Soyeon was in the same vicinity. 

All of the missing puzzle pieces are within her grasp. 

Pulling the sword out of the ground, Soojin studies the blade, eyes flickering towards her. 

“I’ll teach you because I trust Miyeon’s judgement. And because it pains me to see an old friend whine about death.” 

* * *

Stumbling through, Shuhua rushes down the hallway. Legs unsteady. About to collapse and ready for a nap. The mud on her face tells her otherwise, that a quick wash is in order. 

She swears she’ll go insane if she hears another  _ one more time! _ while she swings at straw dummies and real monsters. Soojin didn’t give her more than a minute of rest. 

Shuhua is so preoccupied with the cursed  _ one more time! _ , she doesn’t notice Miyeon. Bumping into her, sharp pain flares in her forehead. 

“Sorry.” Indistinct, a subdued mumble. There isn’t a chance for Shuhua to respond and Miyeon is gone, slipping into her own room.

* * *

Training with Soojin is predictable. Comforting. She’s never left behind on the mountain without warning. She doesn’t have to chase after someone who runs at the speed of light. 

Confidently wielding the blade, she’s catching up to Soojin’s level. That’s what matters most. 

Everyday, she comes home soaked in sweat. Bearing the fruits of her labour. Physically, she has grown stronger. When she’s on the ground, barely able to lift her sword, breathing heavily, Soojin praises her.  _ Your footwork has gotten faster. Your angles are cleaner.  _

It fills her with pride. Satisfaction.

Pride doesn’t erase the tinges of ennui at the end of every training session. 

* * *

“There’s a basilisk on the loose.” Shuhua looks up briefly to meet Soyeon’s gaze, showing she’s listening. Nobody else has looked up. Shuhua goes back to eating her bowl of rice, head down.

Food isn’t necessary for reapers though it’s nice to indulge. 

“And you want us to hunt it?” asks Yuqi. Still shoveling rice into her mouth. Like the others. No one truly pays attention 

“I can do it,” volunteers Miyeon. 

“Miyeon and Shuhua then?” Soyeon suggests. 

Eating the last grain of rice, Shuhua sets her bowl aside. “Sure.” 

“Is it alright if I go with Yuqi instead?” says Miyeon. Yuqi coughs, choking. Slamming down her fist on the table. Repeatedly. “Me?”

For some odd reason, Shuhua can feel her lips tugging into a curl. She molds her mouth closed, forcing a tight smile. 

Miyeon shrugs. “Why not. It’s been awhile.” Yuqi stares at her, eyes bugged out. Probably surprised by Miyeon acknowledging her existence. 

“Okay. Miyeon and Yuqi will hunt the basilisk.” 

* * *

Shuhua spends more time with Soojin. Dedicating most of her waking hours to training.

Today, Soojin let her go early, citing she had caught wind of a special event at the base of the mountain. Coaxing her to stop by before the sun sets. 

So she does, but not before asking, badgering Soojin for details. The answer,  _ your burial _ , was pretty convincing. Try as she might, Soojin refused to name her informant. An ominous  _ you’ll see  _ being the reply. 

The quintessence of strangeness is standing far away from your own funeral, high up in the trees. Overlooking your mourning, grief-stricken father and mother bury a crimson-stained shred of cloth. The traces of her once white tunic, left behind at the scene of her supposed death.

Her mother sobs, tears pouring down. Her father consoles, weeping nonetheless. They push dirt into the hole, laying to rest the remains of her human life. 

There is no use in revealing she’s still alive and well. Questions would emerge in a few years time. How would she explain to her aging parents her youthful face?

The villagers wouldn’t hesitate to tie her to a stake and alight the pyre beneath her feet. 

Shuhua watches the scene carry on, her dear parents finishing the task, sweeping dust off an ornate wooden board in the ground. Marking, telling the world that she had once existed, lived on Earth.

She stays when her parents leave. She stays where she is, her hand against the tree trunk. Steadies her feet. Slowly lowers her body, perching on the thick branch. 

Making sense of what transpired. The bizarreness of it all. 

A part of her wants to leap from the tree and follow her parents home, forgetting, rewriting reality. Shuhua allows herself to revel in what could have been. 

Amidst the glowing light of the sky, purple blues and oranges diffusing and scattering, she finds sobriety. With every breath, in and out, tranquility caresses her. Nightfall descends. 

In the distance, a lone woman approaches her burial site. Clutching a single Asian pear, placing it in front of the wooden board. Moonlight shines away from where the woman kneels, her face, ill-defined in the dark. 

Glinting ivory on her back, as pure as snow, reveals her identity. 

Shuhua doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, pear trees symbolize comfort. 
> 
> This is the last chapter that happens in the past so it’s a tiny bit longer. I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to write in Shuhua’s pov. 
> 
> The song I listened to the most for this chapter was gidle’s tung-tung from their latest japanese album. I wasn’t inspired by the lyrics, but more so from the overall vibes of the song. 
> 
> On another note, I’m currently working on a mishu oneshot that’s past 10k words. (Spoilers: it’s the superpower au no one wanted). It’s certified as my baby so when it comes out in the near future, please don’t let it flop. 
> 
> Thanks for putting up with my rambling.


	10. remember the fields and greener pastures

_ Present _

  
  


Tourists and locals alike flock to the mountain. Every single day without fail, they prepare for their hike at the base, pray for blessings, and begin their trek upwards. There is never a shortage of people. 

There is one thing they all have in common. 

Whispers of an old tale flow from their lips, spreading from one to another. Murmurings of a shapeshifting demoness in the depths of a cave at the peak. Her true form is that of a skeleton so the tale says. 

Once in a blue moon, she descends the mountain, she brings with her fragrant fruits, tempting weary travellers. When they bite into the flesh of the fruit, she tears them limb by limb. Into perfect pieces ripe for devouring. 

Through the centuries, the fruit in question has become something else altogether in folklore. It has gained a mythical reputation. And it so happens that the very fruit is the one growing at the base of the mountain, hanging from the branches of a single tree. 

Shuhua can’t fathom why people clamor about, pushing and shoving to pick pears. 

They’re juicy. And fat. They’re Asian pears free for picking. 

Practically a dream for superstitious scrooges. 

But they’re not going to grant mystical healing benefits, they do not bestow luck. No one is winning the lottery any time soon.

They’re just fruit. They won’t lead to an inexplicable increase in cash perfect for a mid-life crisis lambo. 

The beginnings of the old tale likely had some truth to it. Minnie spoke of a skeletal demoness 352 years ago who had been slain without a hitch. 

Okay. That’s fine. 

Shuhua respects honesty, freedom of speech, et cetera. That’s good and all. Three cheers for saying your truth. 

Hip. Hip. Hooray. 

Back to the situation at hand. Shuhua would like to sit down and speak with whoever spread the extra rumours surrounding the fruit. For a friendly chat, a one-on-one while her blade is in view. She won’t resort to violence, rest assured, it will be sheathed. 

While leaning against the table menacingly. 

Nothing personal. 

* * *

The locals were gone by 3pm for afternoon tea. But the tourists? 9, 10 pm, and the tourists still haven’t left. 

World-class persistency at work. 

Which is why she leaves. She’s had enough. At two in the morning, she’ll come back and hopefully by then, there’d be no one here. 

Normally, seeing the sheer amount of people congregating doesn’t bother her. Spaces and places change. There’s a convenience store at the bottom of the mountain. Cars roar past on the tar roads. What was once a feared place where humans never dared to tread has become a tourist attraction. 

Soon to devolve into a tourist trap. Last she heard, the park rangers were planning on implementing entrance fees. 

Shuhua just has to hold onto her memories as best as she can. 

And it is precisely because she still remembers that the sight of unruly mortals grates on her nerves today.

* * *

Locking her front door, looking down, the extra pair of shoes remain. 

The bag of pears are where she last saw them. On the couch. Miyeon? On the couch. A documentary plays on the TV, the volume set low. 

Miyeon’s eyes flit to her briefly, returning to the screen immediately. Stilling when Shuhua picks up the bag.

Heavier than the last time, Shuhua takes out two, setting them on the counter for later. They’d come in handy. 

She sits on the other side of the couch, maintaining an appropriate, polite distance. “What are you watching?”

“Ostriches.” Miyeon doesn’t turn towards her, neutrality coating her response. Thinly veiled jibes are missing. Bluntness present. This is Miyeon’s version of civility as far as she can tell so she decides to try as well. 

Shuhua picks at her nail, half tuning in to the ramble of the documentary. It’s the pervasive sentimentality she’s been feeling the past 24 hours, steering her to continue the conversation. “Any interesting facts?” 

“Ostrich kicks can kill lions.” 

“Fascinating.” Shuhua glances at the clock. 11:54 pm. “I’m going out again later. You can come with me.”

A deliberate slip of the tongue? Perhaps. She feels like she had to say it though and ask on her own terms. It pleases her a bit. Just knowing she extended an invitation first.

Miyeon finally looks at her properly. Surprise coloring her face, eyes wider than the left turns she takes when driving. Miyeon that is. 

Shuhua doesn’t have a license. 

* * *

Incense sticks between her palms, Shuhua kneels and bows. Three times. Rising, she plants the sticks into the ground. With a bit of effort, they stay standing straight. 

Placing the two fresh pears in front of the incense sticks, she joins Miyeon in sitting cross-legged. Who stares up at the looming pear tree. 

Twenty feet tall. 

“I’m sorry,” says Miyeon. Hugging herself at the waist. “I shouldn’t have placed that pear at your burial.” 

Shuhua stiffens.

Something has shifted. It might have to do with Miyeon visiting her parents’ graves together with her for the first time. Rather than her going alone every year then catching sight of Miyeon coming up the tar road as she’s leaving.

Or maybe it’s because Soyeon banning them from hunting for a week affects them both. More than they will ever admit. 

A combination of the two, really. Tacking on centuries of rigidity and ill feelings. Whatever happened back then, they never talked it out. 

Dogged determination is ugly in this scenario. 

“These people step on your parents’ graves every year. Yours as well. They don’t even know.” The sorrow in Miyeon’s voice, that would’ve done the trick. Annoying her further, yet her anger recedes. 

Caving in, relenting to the tiredness in her heart. The obvious snarky reply would’ve been to question Miyeon’s right to express irritation in this situation. Willingly, Shuhua wants to lift the heavy weight on her own shoulders, trading jabs at each other is exhausting. 

Repetitive. 

She opts for another route. One that will hopefully set them on another path. A new beginning that may be embarrassing and cumbersome at first. But a new beginning nonetheless. 

“I should be allowed to fight a tourist every year on this day. That’ll compensate for their blatant disrespect.” 

She receives a lengthy pause and another strange look. No wide eyes. Just arched brows. “They wouldn’t be able to see your sword. It can’t even hurt them.”

“Who said I was fighting them with my sword.”

Miyeon actually has the gall to snicker when Shuhua is being serious here. It’s too late now to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a tourist, but there’s always next year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miyeon adopting human mannerisms and activities. Shuhua distancing herself from her mortality while still being grounded. Pack it up, it’s time to sleep. My brain can’t analyze any more. 
> 
> Song: amazarashi - Kaette Koiyo (trans. come back home) 
> 
> So you know how I said last chapter I was writing a long superpower mishu oneshot? It’s now out, the selling point is that it's cuter than whatever is going on in this fic. Here's the [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171653).


	11. a brittle olive branch

“Your swings are sloppy,” Soojin notes. Shuhua’s sword fails to cleave the bundle of bamboo in half, stuck three quarters in. “Has a week of rest made you forget everything you’ve learnt?” 

Shuhua tugs her sword out and slashes again. Cleanly passing through. “Hardly.”

“Your technique has gotten better.” 

“I’d hope so.” If she hasn’t, what does that make her? She has improved by a longshot. By leaps and bounds. Technically, she doesn’t need to train with Soojin anymore. 

She’s a swordmaster in her own right. 

“You’re still worse than me, but you’re better than Minnie.” A compliment that’s not really a compliment. Apparently, Minnie was the odd one of the bunch at birth, missing a weapon in her hands. It works out though, the elder girl prefers using her fists and elbows. Plus her knees and shins. 

That being said, Minnie handles a sword like a beginner grasping the intricacies of wielding chopsticks. Poking and stabbing.

Her eyes have yet to recover from the time she saw Minnie try to stab a minotaur with one of Soojin’s swords. ‘Messy’ cannot describe the scene adequately. 

A true disaster of blood and guts had come to life. Anyone would turn into a vegan on the spot. Not even vegetarianism, skip over that step. They’d go straight to veganism. 

“You’ll never say I’ve surpassed you, huh?” Complaining, sheathing her blade, Shuhua wipes at her forehead. The sun is setting, but for them, the day has aptly just begun. 

Hunting in broad daylight has become a nightmare of an activity to cover up. These days, anyone could film them on their phones and broadcast six girls randomly weaving, doing interpretive dancing. An avant-garde jive around monsters. 

Even the police won’t approach the monsters, telling all citizens to run for their lives and hide if they ever encounter them on the street. 

What’s to say six ordinary, absolutely normal and inconspicuous girls, would stand a chance against those beasts? This is a fool proof recipe for going viral on the internet, attracting unwanted attention. 

Not that Shuhua cares as demonstrated by her impromptu tendency of hunting on campus. Whenever and wherever. 

“Nope. In your dreams, child, you’ll never be better than me.” Soojin kicks the sliced bamboo into a pile, shuffling around. Refusing to squat and pick them up. “By the way, congratulations on surviving the whole week without going crazy. Soyeon told me to tell you that she’s mad.”

“I would’ve never guessed our dear leader is angry.”

“Your use of sarcasm could be improved too,” says Soojin. 

“Duly noted. I’ll try harder next time.” 

Soojin isn’t the type to sigh, already accustomed to Shuhua’s antics. She just seems done. “Soyeon has been checking every social media site to make sure you and Miyeon don’t go viral for your stunt.” 

“Blowing up the lab is nothing. Repairments aside, I think we’ve done a service to the university, they’ll devote their money to something useful instead of spending it all on leaf-blowing.” Shuhua can’t believe blowing leaves off the paths on campus is where the bulk of student fees go. 

A travesty. What a true atrocity. 

“We moved back into the city not long ago. Do you want to return to the middle of nowhere in the south?” asks Soojin. 

Shuddering at the thought, the south hasn’t been good to her. Miles and stretches of floating ice. The never-setting sun. Her blood already didn’t circulate well, the cold was unbearable. 

Shuhua would take the three years, a short fanciful experiment of living in the desert, over the south. “I’m surprised people don’t know reapers exist yet, but to answer your question, I’m good. I don’t want to hunt killer penguins in chilly weather.”

“Then we have an understanding. Soyeon also wants you to know and I quote, ‘Shuhua better sort out her angsty teen crap with Miyeon or else we’re moving back to the Antarctic.’ She’s threatening you to play nice.” 

Oh, she’s trying all right, there’s been a massive step forward. She hasn’t insulted Miyeon in any capacity for several days. But she hasn’t gone further than that. None of them live in the same house anymore, they meet when they hunt together. 

All this week, she hasn’t been hunting so there was no reason to see Miyeon again after the spur-of-the-moment excursion to the mountain. 

Shuhua points out something else. Grimacing. “Soyeon needs to stop learning modern slang.” 

“Agreed.” 

\----

And so she decides to put in an even greater effort. Purposefully inviting Miyeon through text to hunt with her. Just the two of them. 

Shuhua stares at the message she sent. Wondering if she was hasty in her decision, whether her text was too blunt. Was it too performative? She doesn’t want the other woman to think she’s doing this only because of Soyeon or Soojin. Would Miyeon even know that Soyeon is threatening her to play nice?

Waiting for Miyeon to reply is a personal hell in itself. 

She can’t quell the uneasiness in her stomach. Pocketing her phone, she sets these wandering thoughts aside. 

At the northern entrance of the park, if she doesn’t see Miyeon within five minutes of the suggested meeting time, she’ll hunt on her own. 

\----

When she arrives, Miyeon is already there, a small smile on her face, waving. “There’s going to be a vampire hag, I saw it already.” Uncharacteristic radiance exudes from the other woman, catching Shuhua off guard.

Pausing for a bit, it dawns on her what Miyeon is trying to say. “You mean strigoi?”

“Yeah, a male vampire hag.” Under wraps and barely contained, Miyeon’s energy is infectious. “I haven’t hunted one since the 1900s. They all went into hiding after Dracula was published.”

As she naturally falls into step beside Miyeon, listening to her speak, it scares Shuhua how much she has missed this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the year update oho (that I had written a month or two ago). 
> 
> I hope you guys are all doing well. 


	12. let me have this endless night

The flying arrow almost takes off her head. 

To be more precise, it would’ve lodged itself in her temple, but those are technicalities. 

Shuhua leaps backward before any of the unfortunate aforementioned events could happen. 

This is child’s play for her, but she keeps her eyes trained on the two strigoi, still having the mind to berate Miyeon. Yelling with none of the former bite to it. 

“Watch where you’re shooting!” 

“Sorry!” Miyeon pipes up cheerfully, somewhere far behind her, maybe in a bush. Relatively safe from danger. 

Strigoi are mostly harmless until provoked. Shuhua has always thought they would’ve made excellent pets, imagine a bald male vampire hag waiting on her beck and call. 

It’s a shame strigoi are blood drinkers who have to gorge themselves fat on blood every now and then. They also have an acquired taste for reapers, they would salivate at the imagery of draining her dry. 

Her idea wouldn’t work on her end either. Considering that she has a disposition to chop every single monster she encounters into unrecognizable pieces. 

Just reaper things. 

Shuhua would’ve gone on ruminating over the sad truth: strigoi make terrible pets. Except she had to be interrupted, seeing movement. 

She sidesteps easily. 

Swinging to the side, her blade meets no resistance. She ignores the pained shriek in her ear. There is nothing quite like this and she won’t pretend to deny it. Absolutely nothing can compare to the rush in her veins. 

Shuhua smirks. One down, one more to go. 

She turns on her heel. Prepared to finish off the last one. 

Mild disappointment creeps into her heart. Ah. She’s been beaten to it. 

An arrow protrudes from the strigoi’s forehead. It stumbles one foot towards her, arms hanging dumbly at its sides. Mouth wide open. Almost cartoonishly, knees hitting the floor first, it slumps to the ground. 

Headfirst. 

“Look at you showing off,” says Shuhua. 

Miyeon walks up from wherever she was. From a bush probably. “I can’t be outdone by you, can I?” 

“Well said. Would you like a cookie to go with my sincere congratulations?” Shuhua prods the strigoi with her foot. Moves away when she’s satisfied with its limpness. 

She keeps on her frown though. 

“You’re just miffed I killed more strigoi than you tonight.” 

The urge to roll her eyes to the back of her head must be stomped out—Shuhua repeats this line over and over in head. If she wants to get along with Miyeon, she has to accept her as she is. 

“The count is twelve to eight, try to keep up, will you?” Blast that cheeky provocation. Miyeon just had to add fuel to the fire. The simmering, growing fire, soon to be an uncontrollable blaze. 

“Oh, I will,” Shuhua growls. 

\----

It has been awhile, a long, long while since they’ve done this together. Without actively trying to tick each other off for reasons meant to sting and hurt. 

It has to be her fiercely competitive streak which makes her text Miyeon after she returns home. 

_Want to do that again tomorrow? Same time?_

Miyeon’s response comes instantaneously. 

_Sure._

She tries not to read too much into the speed of the reply. 

\----

Head looking up every minute or so from her phone, Miyeon is there. From her spot behind a wayward bench, Shuhua crouches. She peeks up. Hesitantly. 

Seeing Miyeon’s head turn in her direction, she drops back down. Heart hammering, ready to leap out of its cage. 

What is she doing. 

She’s not here to play hide and seek. Far from it. 

The inner workings of her mind were paralyzed when she saw Miyeon already at the park, waiting. 

Twenty minutes early. 

And instead of walking up to her like a normal functioning reaper, Shuhua had reflexively made herself scarce. Hiding in a fit. Because what kind of a message would it send if Miyeon knew she showed up early too? 

Mentally debating, she recognizes she has two options. 

1\. Walk out loud and proud like she didn’t just squat for an indeterminate amount of time behind a bench. Proceed to initiate snarky banter to conceal her mortification. 

2\. Squat indefinitely. Her glutes will thank her more than ever.

Option number one’s success rate is 55%, give or take. Approximately. If Miyeon had somehow acquired a loose screw in her head. Rickety and dangling. Shuhua could also resort to telling a chicken joke in hopes of shocking Miyeon to the point of no return. 

As for option number two, it is quite attractive though exhausting for her to pull it off correctly, but futility is a social construct—

“What are you doing?” 

Throbbing, splitting pain. Her hand shoots to the back of her head, feeling her eyes bulge from self-inflicted torture. 

This is what she gets for panicking out of silliness. 

She has to act cool and casual. She did not bump her head while turning because she was caught. Nope. It did not happen. If she convinces herself it was a figment of her imagination, Miyeon has a higher chance of believing whatever lie she is about to spin. 

Shuhua stands, making sure to lean against the bench. 

Relaxed, loosening every fibre of her body. Confidence is the key. “I’m examining the impressive craftsmanship of this bench, what else does it look like I’m doing?” 

“If you say so. But it looked like you were deep in thought inspecting the dried gum underneath.” Miyeon definitely isn’t buying her alibi, judging by the mischievous grin. That is cut off by a loud yawn. 

Miyeon exhales deeply again, blinking; though to Shuhua, her eyes nevertheless hold that same clarity and energy from before. “Maybe I should leave you to it and I’ll get a headstart on the monsters.” 

Shuhua pushes off the bench and reminds herself she absolutely did not botch option number one. “You’re not winning tonight.”

“Am I?” Questioning. Light and airy—teasing, throwing Shuhua a bone—there’s a tantalizing challenge dripping freely. 

And she’ll take it by the reins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Competitive dorks, let’s go. The fluff meter has been maxed out thanks to fromis 9’s starry night, just in time before I keel over from the joy I derive from stats and regression lines.


	13. trust is a seven-letter word

“I’ll, uh,” Miyeon collects her arrow from the disintegrating pile of ashes, of what used to be a lumpy brown carcass. Her back to Shuhua, crouched down. A standstill. Then asking in a quieter voice. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Recurrently, there’s that hopeful note peering at the top, reminding Shuhua of shy kittens and puppies. 

“Yeah, see you then.” 

Miyeon turns around and Shuhua is highly aware, she’d have to be blind to miss how Miyeon’s face lights up. 

And this is where they would part ways, but all she can think of is how fast the night has ended in a flash. Like that, an unfinished quality to it—incomplete—as if there should be more.

She’s compelled to say whatever that comes to mind, anything to prolong this moment. Selfishly wanting to hold on for a bit longer. “Are you alright?” 

“What do you mean?” says Miyeon, all within a subdued breath. Slurring a bit, obviously exhausted. 

“I’m just asking because you seem tired. Maybe we should take a break tomorrow?” The implication isn’t hidden. Shuhua won’t be broaching the subject aloud either. 

“No, it’s okay, I’m alright.” 

Miyeon waves her off. 

\----

She keeps a watchful eye on Miyeon throughout the next night, prepared to intervene without a moment’s notice. 

Shuhua hasn’t jumped in yet. 

Miyeon is holding up. On the outside. 

It then happens. 

A misplaced step, a hellhound lunging high for exposed skin; there’s too much of a gap to cover between her and Miyeon. Never mind that Shuhua’s weapon is not a spear or a javelin of some sort, she almost throws it at the beast. 

She doesn’t have to. 

The hellhound receives a dagger in the neck, glowing white runes appearing over fur. The beast is but dust. 

Shuhua rushes forward, catching Miyeon as she stumbles, fingertips pressing into the older’s spine. Holding her steady for longer than she should. 

Miyeon pushes her away quickly. “I don’t need your help.” 

Whether it’s true or not, Shuhua doesn’t care. She has been on guard with her pulse caught in her throat the entire night. And a flimsy, weak statement reopens wounds she thought she had buried for good this week. 

“It seemed like you needed it, I’m sorry for caring,” Shuhua snaps. 

Miyeon has the gall to look taken aback. Startled by her ferocity.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought that,” furrowing her eyebrows, Miyeon tries again. In a reserved tone. “What I said came out wrong.”

“Yeah, you think?” 

Miyeon isn’t given the chance to respond. 

Abruptly, the rumbling of the earth cuts through the air; a shrill cry later. Female and strikingly human. 

Their quarrel is forgotten. Put on hold as the ground ceaselessly shakes. Not another word, they both hurtle on pavement, heading to the source. Experience guides them; this isn’t an earthquake. 

And they’re right. 

In the middle of the baseball field. The slow rise and fall in the girl’s chest, unconscious, but alive. 

The earth dragon looming over the girl presents a Herculean challenge. 

Hailing from primitive stirrings, leviathan even in its coiled form, snake-like mass is grounded through its four legs. Crudely sniffing, exhaling steam.

No other monster has invoked this sort of reaction through her body. Tremors. Dread freezing the rest of her limbs that aren’t shaking. Shuhua knows her options are limited. Strangled. 

To her side, Miyeon is faring for the worse from their sprint.

Blanched. Whiter than earlier. 

Shuhua’s sword is drawn. She wouldn’t though. She can’t.

She doesn’t dare to fight. 

“Over here!” 

Following Miyeon’s voice, neck twisting, the dragon stretches to its full length. Treads, stalks across the field. Abandons its fixation over the unconscious girl for better prey. 

Shuhua has to plead. Watching Miyeon create distance from her, her throat is parched by the uncertainty of the ramifications, the certainty of Miyeon’s way of thought. “Don’t do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Shuhua chokes out. 

“I’ll be fine,” Miyeon holds her gaze, almost swaying Shuhua. Nearly dispels the fallacy of what she’s about to do. 

“Trust me.” 

Miyeon continues to stride forward. Grim and fearless. When the dragon charges, they engage in a deadly dance.

Two arrows remain in Miyeon’s quiver. Shuhua believes—she would bet a thousand times over, for all of eternity as long as she’s still breathing that Miyeon only needs one arrow. 

A single shot to fell the dragon. 

That isn’t going to happen. 

Miyeon doesn’t reach for an arrow. Zero intention to shoot. 

Shuhua makes a move toward Miyeon and the earth dragon, the slightest step, and Miyeon’s eyes flash in warning. 

“Shuhua!” Miyeon yells. “Go save her!” 

Leading the raging creature away from them, harsh breaths through her nose. 

While panting through gritted teeth. 

And at first, it seems to be working, Miyeon stays one step ahead, ducking and weaving. 

The dragon’s claw. The near misses starting to not look as calculated as before. Miyeon’s stamina is rapidly depleting. 

Anyone can see that. 

Outcomes racking through her mind, a choice in front of her. Shuhua chooses to forgo her better judgement. Her usual judgement. 

She sheathes her katana. 

She runs to the stranger on the ground, slings her over her back without a hitch. And runs. Runs out of the dragon’s reach. 

The clock ticking against her. 

Hurriedly rushing away to the nearest hospital, careening through the automatic doors. She practically dumps the girl in the emergency room’s receptionist area. Body slumped and hanging limply in the chair. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Falling upon deaf ears, no seconds to lose.

The receptionist rounds the counter—chases after her, but Shuhua is already gone. 

Mounting speed, faster than what the mortal eye can catch. Pushing herself. Racing back. 

She’s on autopilot the moment she sees Miyeon. 

Shuhua barrels into the colossal dragon. 

Both hands wrap around the dragon’s talon, wrenching up. Snapping off. Unbound anger fuels her strength—Shuhua hurls it into its eye. 

The deafening roar fails to stop her in her tracks. 

She’s not even thinking anymore. “Shuhua, what—“ Carrying Miyeon in one fell swoop, nothing else matters right now. 

She doesn’t stop running, she hears her heart pounding, feeling alive for the first time in centuries, like she has something to  _ lose _ . She ignores the fists hitting her chest, the cries for her to stop. 

She’s relying on muscle memory, halting when she realizes where her feet have taken her. 

Lowering Miyeon, the woman’s feet land with a quiet thud. 

Keys jingling, Miyeon unlocking the door, the sound may as well be grey noise for Shuhua. From head to toe, scanning vacantly, lingering on scatheless skin, the beats in her heart slow to a steady rhythm, and everything is alright again. 

She follows Miyeon inside. 

\----

Some people snore loudly, rumbling thunder in her wake. It’s a deep breath for others. Miyeon is neither, softly whistling in her slumber. 

The sound blends into the background. 

Miyeon didn’t make it to her own bed, passing out on the couch unceremoniously. Leaving no room for Shuhua to occupy the same space. 

Suppose Miyeon was awake. Shuhua would tell her she’s doing an underwhelming emulation of a boiling kettle. But she isn’t awake and Shuhua is alone with her thoughts. 

_ “You can stay over.”  _

Padding to the bedroom, she takes the blanket in her arms, returns to the living room, and drapes it across Miyeon’s form. Taking care her feet are covered, tucking the upper edges below her chin. 

Shuhua has never spent the night here, but she can make an exception. 

She has learned more than enough about herself tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update within the same month? Coinciding with Miyeon’s birthday? It’s all thanks to my pc for its inability to run gongshow, gongcha, genshin impact properly. 


	14. it won't be like before

_ The cold has gone and settled into its place. Penetrating deep into her bones. Clinging to her skin, what remains of her clothes impart numbness.  _

_ Deadness of her limbs. Gradually. That’s what she feels all over as the rain continuously falls.  _

_ She hears a roar. Heavy brooding steps. Warning her of danger, yet she can’t bring herself to move.  _

_ Naturally, the demon has come back to finish her. Or maybe it’s a new monster chancing upon her body, Shuhua doesn’t know how long she has been here.  _

_ Unmoving.  _

_ Waiting for something to happen as she listens to her own slowing inhales.  _

_ Shuhua closes her eyes; she closes them not because she is afraid. She has already undergone that stage of wild fear—cutting her breaths short.  _

_ She has always thought her final moments would be years down the line. Long after she has married and had children. She has envisioned her own children crowding around her bedside and she would be wondering. Thinking of what awaits post-death, ashes scattered to the wind. _

_ Now for the time being.  _

_ Tranquility came to her at a certain point, after she lost her will to scream.  _

_ Shuhua closes her eyes because she prefers to see what could have been. And it is far more beautiful than her reality.  _

_ So when she hears the singing of an arrow, the shaking scream of a beast, she keeps her eyes closed. When there is only silence, she stays still.  _

_ Even as a foreign touch imparts heat. Fingertips tracing along the groove of her neck. Stopping at her pulse.  _

_ The warmth retreats and she only feels the cold again.  _

_ “Do you want to live?”  _

_ Quiet.  _

_ Cautiously offering.  _

_ Shuhua opens her eyes to a vision painted to life. All edges, sculpted and carved to absolute perfection.  _

_ A walking angel without wings. _

_ She must have been granted a last gift from the heavens. _

\----

Miyeon shifts, sits up languidly. Squints at her for a couple seconds, clearly taking a while to gather her bearings. The first thing Miyeon says is: 

“You’re still here.” 

Shuhua had sparsely slept, drifting in and out of consciousness every half hour or so, followed by lengthy bouts of time spent studying the ceiling. Her first mistake was trying to fall asleep on the floor. Albeit she did have a rug for her butt and the couch to lean against. 

Not that they were helpful in any way, her body is feeling the effects. 

The dull ache in her head rages on. Obstructing the last vestiges of coherent thought. Her ability to process and parse gave up on her at five in the morning. Three hours have passed since then. 

“Yeah. I’m here.” She can’t even string together an intelligent reply. Apart from listing basic facts. 

“Why?”

“You told me I could stay.” 

“I didn’t think you would.”

Shuhua is sitting across from her, staring up at Miyeon on the couch. It probably felt odd to Miyeon too. She would like to believe that’s why Miyeon lowers herself to the floor as well. 

Mimics her sitting position. “What do you want?” 

She did expect Miyeon to ask, staying overnight was ridiculously out of character. She knew it would warrant some sort of discussion in the morning. She knew beforehand. And she has prepared herself for this all through the night. How to answer. How to get her point across so there would be no ambiguities. 

In this moment, with her carefully constructed answers up to bat, with Miyeon awake, she hesitates to speak. 

Sorting through the fog of her thoughts, she thinks of the way she planned to thread her response together. She’s not eloquent, she never has been, and now that she has to cough the exact words out, her mind is spinning. Scrambling as her chest tightens. 

Nerves set alight. Afraid of messing up. 

Yet Miyeon isn’t rushing her, expression unchanged, waiting patiently. Giving Shuhua her full attention. 

The carefully constructed, planned answers don’t seem appropriate anymore. Miyeon isn’t asking for perfection. Shuhua probably can’t deliver an answer that would neatly tie withering loose ends either. 

But honesty will always be valued. 

Her delivery can be fumbled, she can afford to sound lame and out of her element. Shuhua had promised herself; above all, she has to be honest. 

And she will be. 

The following centuries cannot pass like the last 400 years. 

Grappling with the tremble in her voice, giving way, it comes out in a hushed quaver. 

“I want us to be okay.” 

Miyeon’s entire body deflates. 

As Miyeon opens her mouth to speak, Shuhua notices the little details. The rise and fall of her chest is barely there. But first and foremost, she notices the dullness in her eyes. 

“You want us to be okay.” Repeats her word for word. Tone for tone. Soft and scared, blindly reaching into the dark. “How do you want that to happen?”

Shuhua can easily decipher the underlying question. How should they undo centuries of the hurt they caused each other? Emotions avoided—allowed to fester in resentment. 

If there’s even a semblance of trust between them, it’s only in her own head. 

“I think we should take it slow and be honest with each other.” Shuhua holds her breath. 

Restless.

“I think so too.” 

A part of Shuhua is glad Miyeon agrees. 

Another part of her wonders if Miyeon truly wishes for their relationship to change for the better—is desperate for an end to the pretenses. She needs to hear it out loud. “Did you agree to come with me every night because you really wanted to fix whatever, whatever's,” she huffs. “Can we talk about last night?” 

The other woman bites her lip. 

“I wasn’t going to faint. At least not in front of the dragon.”

“I had no way of knowing.” 

Her gaze drops down, avoiding Miyeon’s eyes. “Do you know what I felt seeing you like that?” She tries her hardest to keep calm, yet it’s too late to seal the overflowing dam within. “I thought you were going to collapse on the spot, I thought the dragon was going to,” her hands grip her knees, unwittingly, squeezing so tight that it hurts. 

Her voice came out louder than intended. 

The same fear from last night returns: a mix of distress spawned from possibilities, imagined outcomes of lifeless pulses and solitude, anger at Miyeon. Anger at herself. 

Why is she still holding back from saying everything she wants to say? 

Herself most damning of all, she’s livid with herself. 

“I thought I would lose you!” 

Silence. 

An empty beat. 

Maybe she has gone overboard. 

Maybe she has said too much. Maybe she shouldn’t have even bothered. Her vision blurs, forming a glassy film. Fuck. She shouldn’t be doing this— 

Unnaturally warm fingers unclench Shuhua’s hands. Worming their way through amidst the battering, the crashing rush of her heart. 

“I do know what it feels like,” says Miyeon, “or at least I think I do.”

Her head is gently tilted up, thumbs brush the skin beneath her eyes. Lightly grazing. “And I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“Please don’t cry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Halsey - More

**Author's Note:**

> add me on [twt](https://twitter.com/ahealthyscalp?s=09), don't be shy


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